In the midst of a thick clump of trees, whose protecting shade offered a comfortable shelter to a weary traveller, a man dressed in the costume of a Mexican dragoon was lazily seated in front of a fire, over which his meat was cooking, while himself smoked a husk cigarette. A long lance decorated with its guidon leaned against a larch tree close to him, and a completely harnessed horse, from which the bit had, however, been removed, was peaceably nibbling the tree shoots and the tender prairie grass. This man seemed to be twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age; his cunning features were lit up by small sharp eyes, and the copper tinge of his skin denoted his Indian origin. He had for a long time seen the horseman coming toward his camp, but he appeared to attach but slight importance to it, and quietly went on smoking and watching the cooking of his meal, not taking any further precaution against the unforeseen visitor than assuring himself that his sabre came easily out of its scabbard. When he was only a few paces from the soldier, John Davis stopped and raised his hand to his hat. "Ave Maria Purísima!" he said. "Sin pecado concebida!" the dragoon answered, imitating the American's gesture. "Santas tardes!" the new comer went on. "Dios les da a Vm buenas!" the other immediately answered. These necessary formulas of every meeting exhausted, the ice was broken, and the acquaintance made. "Dismount, Caballero," the dragoon said; "the heat is stifling on the prairie; I have here a famous shade, and in this little pot cecina, with red harico beans and pimento, which I think you will like, if you do me the honour to share my repast." "I readily accept your flattering invitation, Caballero," the American answered with a smile; "the more readily because I confess to you that I am literally starving, and, moreover, exhausted with fatigue." "Caray! In that case I congratulate myself on the fortunate accident that occasions our meeting, so pray dismount without further delay." "I am going to do so." The American at once got off his horse, removed the bit, and the noble animal immediately joined its companion, while its master fell to the ground by the dragoon's side, with a sigh of satisfaction. "You seem to have made a long ride, Caballero?" the soldier said. "Yes," the American answered, "I have been on horseback for ten hours, not to mention that I spent the morning in fighting." "Cristo! You have had hard work of it." "You may say so without any risk of telling an untruth; for, on the word of a hunter, I never had such a tough job." "You are a hunter?" "At your service." "A fine profession," the soldier said with a sigh; "I have been one too." "And you regret it?" "Daily." "I can understand that. Once a man has tasted the joys of desert life, he always wishes to return to it." "Alas, that is true." "Why did you give it up then, since you liked it so much?" "Ah, why!" the soldier said; "through love."